


The Power of Observation

by tinycam



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: College AU, Fluff, Lots and lots of Pining, M/M, Slow Burn, a very disillusioned iwa, but he wants to change!! i swear!, mentions of those devils makki and mattsun, smol town iwa, tokyo born and bred oikawa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-16 18:48:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13059990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinycam/pseuds/tinycam
Summary: Iwaizumi didn't really get people watching; not until he laid eyes on Oikawa anyway.





	1. As Driven As a Sloth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intro chapters are boring, but they gotta exist nothing we can do 'bout that one

Iwaizumi Hajime was not made for big cities.

He had been told this time and time again by friends (old and new alike), family, and, once, the cashier of the convenience store near his 'new' closet sized apartment in the capital. More often than not this was used not as an objective observation, but more of a playful quip. Even with the frequency of these teasing words, they never succeeded in actually getting under his skin; if Iwaizumi was in fact something, it was self-aware, and he truly knew he was no city man. There was nothing he could do about it, really; he was too stocky, no good at maneuvering the characteristic crowds of the city, his pace far too sluggish for the habitual city dweller, and his fashion style, or lack of it, seemed to strongly contrast with all the impeccably dressed people constantly surrounding him. He simply stuck out like a sore thumb. It would have befitted his high school friends much more to live in such environment; Hanamaki with his extravagant, but somehow fitting, clothing choices, and Matsukawa with his laid back and overconfident demeanor. Yet somehow he had ventured out to the unknown while his outrageous friends had stayed behind, in the comfort of a small town.

A soft sigh escaped his lips. Comfort. That’s something he hadn’t had for a while. Everything in the city, to him, felt simultaneously larger than life and smaller than necessary.

It was no shock that Iwaizumi’s decision to move to Tokyo for college astonished even those closest to him; Iwaizumi who lacked ambition, lacked passion, lacked the overall drive that propelled most to move from towns that appeared too small to their fanciful eyes. He had never demonstrated any quality that would have suggested that he longed for things too big to be contained in his hometown. There he was comfortable.

Yet comfortable might have been what many strived for, but not what he needed.

Comfortable was, as sweet as a term as it is, much too stationary for his liking, paralyzing, even. Iwaizumi, as unenthusiastic as he was about most aspects of his future, craved some sort of growth, _movement_. Stepping out of his little box was awkward, yet it was necessary for him to navigate through the uneasiness in order to find some new developments in his painfully ordinary life. Besides, even if he felt inadequate now in this new environment, he could get used to it, right?

A man in a perfectly tailored suit, walking too hurriedly to pay his surroundings any mind, runs straight into Iwaizumi immediately bouncing back from his broad frame. He shoots him a dirty look, as if taking personal offense at Iwaizumi’s wide shoulders and firm musculature.

_Hm, maybe not_.

And for the second time that morning a sigh, this time louder, escaped him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun-sized chapters everyone? no? just me? ok a y


	2. As Nostalgic As a Goldfish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun-sized chapter of fun content?

He liked to consider himself a practical man. Actions without a purpose were a rare occurrence for him, and often reminiscing was categorized as such. Stopping to think of the past just seemed a waste; his overall outlook might have been bleak when concerning his life up to this point, but he wasn’t about to spend hours doing, what he had dignified to be, the bare minimum. He couldn't afford to waste his time, that's be akin to throwing away his parents’ hard earned money, that they graciously offered him so he could fulfill his newly acquired desire to better and challenge himself in the big city, and betraying all the values of hard work and diligence that were the strong foundation of the Iwaizumi household.

As he makes the small trek towards his tiny apartment, convenience store bags in hand, he comes across a park; the tall trees and serene environment looking as out of place as he constantly feels lately.

The scenery conjures up images of much simpler times. Another park, looking a whole lot worse for wear than this one, with benches that over the years have lost their polished shine, and trees that weren’t nearly as neatly trimmed, allowed to grow more bountiful and disorganized in the larger space. Three tired bodies collapsing on creaky, old wood.

 

_“Irihata-sensei is trying to kill us, there’s no other explanation, his exercises are cruel and unusual punishment,” Hanamaki whined, leaning heavily on Iwaizumi’s right._

_“Maybe he'd be more lenient if you and asshole number two over here weren't always trying to pull stunts, and looking smug as hell about it,” he left out a grunt as another, slightly heavier weight, settled on his left side._

_“Why does he get to be asshole number one?” Comes the response, way too close to his ear._

_His friends never did learn what personal space was._

 

Unconsciously, a small smile adorns his face as he resumes his step. Deciding that for once he'd allow himself the small pleasure that was permitting oneself to feel even the slightest bit nostalgic, even if it was for the the sake of keeping his peace of mind and sanity in this outrageous place. He could sit on one of those park benches and briefly escape his current reality, travel to back in time where his life followed a less hurried rhythm... he'd find some time to do this, when he didn’t have frozen goods melting more and more by the second in his possession, of course.

And maybe, just maybe, he missed his idiot best friends a little.

His phone emits a small noise, and he quickly checks to see a notification, indicating a snapchat from one of the aforementioned.

 

 

 

…It was really hard to miss them when they contacted him constantly with things like, for example, Hanamaki’s bare ass not only visible through, but fully pressed against a window behind Matsukawa’s completely deadpan expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do you mean this is supposed to be an iwaoi and have, oh i dont know, oikawa in it? whatever do u even mean?  
> the progress of the plot is like me running, slow as hell


	3. As Creative As an Underpaid Accountant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe the plot is finally going to start moving forward?  
> ha, not very fucking likely

Unceremoniously plopping himself down on the park bench he breathes in the clean (relative to the rest of the city’s) air. He’s shocked to find the muffled sound of traffic oddly pleasing; though he imagines that by now the cease of this now too familiar noise would be near euphoric.

He takes a swig of his water bottle, soft breeze cooling his sweat covered skin.

Though he had assured himself the first time he had come across this oasis that it wouldn’t be all that counterproductive to simply sit and enjoy nature as well as freely feel for once a sense of belonging, it still felt somehow wrong to be there instead of going over his extensive calculus notes.

However, he rationalized that if he found a way to seamlessly incorporate it into his routine it wouldn’t feel as uncomfortable, so now he found himself heading to the park in order to rest after his morning jog. He also could take as much time as he desired, thankful for once of his severe lack of morning lectures. Now he finally felt like there was nothing wrong with being an early riser.

People walk by, some with purpose on the streets as they are headed to work or classes, while others make their leisurely way through the park. His eyes lazily follow their movements.

 

_“Time to play our favorite game,” Hanamaki’s voice has a musical lilt to it and Iwaizumi has long ago learned that there is no point in trying to fight what is to come._

_He lets out a resigned breath._

_“It’s a lot less fun when you don’t complain,” Matsukawa’s finger prods uncomfortably at his cheek, forcing an irritated noise out of him.._

_“I know not to waste my breath on trying to deny you two, idiots,” he slaps the offending hand away._

_“Hear that? I think that’s ‘I love you, my best friends in the entire world’ in Iwaizumi language,” Hanamaki’s tone is alight with amusement_

_“Hmm, yes, impeccable translation,” a teasing smirk that Matsukawa does not even attempt to hide._

_Both men receive a harsh smack to the back of their heads._

 

Iwaizumi attempts focusing his eyes on a single pedestrian, a young woman with neatly combed hair and shoes that look as tight and uncomfortable as they must feel, trying hard to imagine _something_. Where is she headed? What does she do for a living? What are her deepest, darkest secrets? He furrows his brows, and leans forward in his seat. The woman, seeming to feel his stare glances back at him.

She immediately begins walking faster.

 

_It’s a game they have played for as long as he remembers. As people walk by they take turns, creating a background story for them. There’s no rules to it really, the story can be extremely vague or weirdly specific. Incredibly unrealistic, or as ordinary as any of theirs._

_Iwaizumi usually stays quiet, finding that he has none of the imagination nor the energy to participate in their ‘People Watching’ routine, listens to their ridiculous stories; sometimes he intervenes, when he feels their insane tales are too much, even for those with no concept of reality._

_“…so she’s running to him, about to confess her pent up feelings in the hopes he will accept them.”_

_“Damn Matsukawa, didn’t peg you as a romantic.”_

_“Someone else is walking by, it’s your turn,” the response is automatic, not dignifying his friend’s comment with any attention._

_“Oh, well, that one’s easy.”_

_“Is it?” Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow at his friend’s confident remark._

_“Of course, look at his eyes. That’s a man on a mission,” Hanamaki says dramatically, his eyebrows shooting up and down in a teasing motion._

_“A secret mission,” he elaborates, leaving one of his companions to sigh and the other to grin uncontrollably. “Consider this! He’s a secret spy, been undercover for ages… Leading a seemingly normal life, everyone knows him as a simple man, very pleasant and friendly! However he never lets anyone in his house, you know, where all his secret spy stuff is. There he taps into phones, gets government secrets to send to... to..." he scrunches up his nose, probably thinking of a random country which would fit his ludicrous tale of espionage, "Spain? Let's go with that. Spanish spy, has a nice ring to it."_

_"I'm always a slut for alliteration,"_

_"Shhhh! Not done here," his expression darkens, as he gets ready for the climax of his story. "But he can't keep up his cover too long, it's too strange, someone would eventually get into his house, see what was up. A petty thief, maybe? Or maybe one of his friends has finally become suspicious of his attitude, the point is that someone now holds the power to dismantle the whole operation. And he has to get rid of them.... whatever means necessary."_

_Two blank stares meet his exaggeratedly dramatic glower, though they do little to deter his overzealousness._

_After a few minutes, one of them cracks._

_“Dude… that’s Higarashi-san, the baker,” Matsukawa says through barely stifled laughter._

 

He groans, and leans back, his form slumping against the hard surface of the wooden bench. He never got it, what was so interesting about trying to figure out people’s lives? He had a perfectly difficult life of his own that he was absolute _shit_ at dealing with. Fabricating stories whether they were ordinary or completely outrageous was utterly pointless.

He shuts his eyes, trying to live down the embarrassment of looking like a creep, and probably even like a serial killer in that poor woman’s eyes. Maybe he should go apologize? No, he should absolutely clear up the situation, or he won't be able to get it out of his head for hours. 

He opens his eyes, looking for the source of his mortification, but his eyes automatically catch on someone else.

His mind goes blank, his eyes widen, his breath hitches.

Maybe his heart stops beating for a second or two.

_Oh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow anyone notice that i really like matsukawa and hanamaki?  
> but in all seriousness i feel i kept a very consistent format with the first two chapters and this one's a bit...? different? o weLL

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated (❦ ᴗ ❦ ✿)


End file.
